One of the earliest clues to the story of my father’s wartime past came in the mailbox every month or so when I was growing up: an envelope bearing the return address of the “Survivors of Wake, Guam, and Cavite.” As the years went by I connected a few dots, but Dad never told his story. He had some mysterious scars and debilitating, recurring illnesses relating to the war, but he didn’t talk about it and we knew better than to ask. My...